


Be Good

by CastielsCarma



Series: Kinktober 2020 [30]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Deepthroating, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Master Castiel (Supernatural), Sex Slave Dean Winchester, Sexual Slavery, Threats of Violence, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27291631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma
Summary: Cas likes his slaves good, well behaved, and obedient. Dean tries to convince Cas that he's all that.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Kinktober 2020 [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949407
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54
Collections: Kinktober 2018





	Be Good

**Author's Note:**

> This is my prompt for day 30 of Kinktober: **Deep-throating** , sex toys or stuck in wall.
> 
> This started out as something sweet and fluffy and then I sort of changed my mind, lol.  
> Kudos and comments are substitutes for sleep. <3

Dean sinks down to his knees with a grimace and looks at the floor when he feels Cas' hand in his hair, stroking him reassuringly. He fucking hates it; he's not a goddamn dog but he doesn't flinch away. He stays.

“Mm, you're so good for me, Dean.” Cas' voice is calm, pleased almost.

The room is the same as it's been for the past days-weeks-months. He thinks it's been thirteen days but he's not certain. Time is all a singular now for Dean, and he tries to relax. There is no fucking reason for him to be nervous. He's done this before and he's supposed to be quiet, good.

He forces the words out of his mouth. “Thank you, Sir.”

The silence hangs heavy over them and it makes Dean uncomfortable. Silence is never a good thing. It wasn't when their dad was around and it isn't with Cas. 

Cas strokes his cock a few times – Dean hates himself for even recognizing the sound – before he pushes it against Dean's lips. 

Dean feels panic rise in his chest, a tight constricting feeling. Cas is supposed to take the goddamn wrist cuffs off. Just the thought of his wrists makes them flare up in pain but Dean pushes it down like he's pushed down a lot of things since arriving at this hell hole. 

“Look at me, pet.”

Deepest in his mind lies anger. Dean learned fast that anger was not a good emotion to display so it's buried the deepest. He thinks of nothing as he smooths out his face, allows his expression to be neutral. 

Dean looks at Cas. His eyes are blue. Like really blue. The kind of blue that one would find in cheesy romance books or ridiculous comedies. They look kind right now, warm and welcome but Dean knows that they can turn in an instant. They transform into something cold, cruel and calculated. 

“Are you good for me?” Cas strokes his mouth, a thumb pushing inside. 

Dean's whole body vibrates with the need to fucking do something but he's calm, good. Obedient.

“Yes, Sir,” he mumbles against Cas' thumb. He tries not to think about the key in Cas' back pocket. Dean knows he can do it; he has to try

“Open up.”

Dean opens his mouth and stays like that. With every fiber in his being, he prays that Cas will uncuff him. He always does it because he likes Dean's hand touching him.

Cas moves his thumb around, coats saliva all over it, and smears it on Dean's cheek.

Fucking creep. 

He almost breathes a sigh of relief when Cas leaves him and goes to stand behind him.

Again, his hand is in Dean's hair. He cards his fingers through it, petting him softly before he digs his fingers in deep. He pulls Dean's head back, forcing him to look at him at an awkward angle. 

“Do you remember what happened last time you bit me?”

Bile rises in Dean's throat because he does remember. 

His feet throb in remembrance and his balls want to shrink inside his body. Dean remembers alright. Rope being tied around his balls, a crouched position that was killing his back, and his feet being on fire. Him screaming until his throat turned raw and all he could utter was pained moans. 

Day three. He fucking remembers.

“Yes, Sir.”

Cas lets go of him and finally uncuffs his wrists.

Dean doesn't move. He's not supposed to.

Cas is in front of him again with his pants pulled down. “Be a good pet and open your mouth for me.”

Fuck you.

Dean opens his mouth.

Cas pushes inside slowly and Dean doesn't think, he just does. He swirls his tongue around Cas' head as his left hand finds Cas' balls. He relaxes his hand around them and forces himself to stroke.

Cas pushes Dean's hand away. “Not today.”

Dean continues to suck as a zing of fear goes through him. He eases off of Cas' cock and takes a breath. His pants are right there, so fucking close.

“I love your mouth, pet, I truly do. If I feel your teeth, just the slightest graze, I'll pull a tooth out. And it would be a shame to mar such a pretty face as yours.” Cas says it like he's talking about today's weather.

Dean pictures cracking Cas' skull open.

“Open and stay.”

Cas doesn't even give Dean time to adjust before he shoves his cock inside slowly. 

It's huge against Dean's tongue and it presses down, invading his mouth, his throat, all of him. 

Dean grabs Cas' thighs and he wants to push away but Cas pushes in instead.

It's too much and too fucking slow and Dean gags around it, trying to swallow. Cas' fingers in his hair harden like a vice, forcing him to be still. He pulls back his cock – covered in spit – pulling with him saliva that hangs on Dean's chin like they're connected by a disgusting, physical bond.

Dean coughs as he tries to breathe in, and he sucks in air just as Cas shoves his dick inside his mouth again. 

It's overwhelming and tears spring to Dean's eyes. 

Cas doesn't relent. “Stop fighting, you can't win.”

Dean swallows and Cas moans above him. “Yes, just like that. Fuck, you're tight.” Cas keeps him still, as Dean swallows frantically, trying to breathe, to push out, to escape. His lungs burn and he's drooling and yet at the back of his mind, he remembers Cas' threat of punishment.

When Dean thinks he'll pass out, black already swirling at the edges of his vision, Cas lets go. Dean falls to the floor with a huge gasp. He coughs and gags and wants to puke. 

Cas' feet are a buoy that brings him up above the stormy waves and there, where Dean worships at his feet, the pocket is in front of him. Dean knows the door is locked, it's always fucking locked.

He doesn't think. He puts his hand in Cas' pocket and – he almost cries when his fingers close around something cold – pulls out a key.

Cas grabs him by the hair to pull him out and Dean acts because he knows this is his only shot. He thinks fleetingly that this is no plan – just a desperate attempt to do something – but his hands are free and he has the fucking key. 

Dean turns and ignores the sharp pain as Cas yanks at his hair. His fist connects with skin, bone, and blood spurts. Cas grunts out in surprise more than pain. 

Adrenaline floods his entire system as Dean stumbles towards the stairs. He has the goddamn key in his hand and he takes the wooden steps two at a time. Dean shoves the key inside the look but it won't go all the way in. 

Fuck!

He tries to wiggle it in but nothing. Dean pulls out the key and puts it in again but there is resistance about halfway. He tries to turn the key anyway but it won't give.

A hand grabs him by the leg and pulls.

Dean falls and stumbles down the stairs. All he hears is the deafening sound of the key clattering to the ground.

Sharp pain pricks in his scalp as he's pulled up by the hair. Dean blinks and sees Cas' face staring back at him. His eyes are narrowed and anger makes them burn. “You've been very bad, Dean.”

The last thing Dean sees before everything turns dark is a fist.


End file.
